


Discipline

by kakumei



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Drabble, Funny, Humor, Minor Violence, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakumei/pseuds/kakumei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair bothers Sten with a frivolous game of I-Spy - in the dark, no less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a message from someone I received on my Alistair ask/roleplay blog, who asked who of the two (Sten or Alistair) was the best at I-Spy. This is an extended version of my response :)
> 
> The drabble of course, is also rooted to the party banter between Alistair and Sten where Alistair asks what the Qunari did in that cage, of course.

Alistair lobbed a small pebble with the tip of his boot towards the Qunari, who only exchanged a frown of disapproval with the Templar.

“Parshaara! Warriors are to show discipline, not mope around like restless imekari.”

Alistair could literally hear Sten’s muscled arms flex as the Qunari crossed them over his breast plate. “I’m not moping!” he argued. “I’m just bored. I can’t help feeling restless when I’ve been sitting against this tree for two hours and have had nothing to do.”

“We are doing something,” Sten flatly pointed out, “We are guarding the camp.”

Alistair groaned in exasperation. “That’s totally not what I meant.” He tilted his head back against the rough tree bark and quickly thought to himself. “Play a game with me.”

“No.” Sten quickly said.

“Come on!” Alistair insisted. “I spy…”

“No.”

“Something that is blue.” Alistair enunciated every word, as if to prove the point that he was standing his ground.

The growl that came from the back of Sten’s throat hummed through the leaves above them. “The sky.” He answered without doubt.

“Wh-what?” Alistair scratched the short, fine hairs on his chin. “How?!”

“It is dark. What other colors can you see?” Sten replied.

The Templar hoped his embarrassed mug was also hidden from sight. “Y-your turn.” he then said plaintively.

Sten grimaced and paused as he looked into the distance, but complied. “I spy something that is red.”

Alistair tilted his head in puzzlement. “Leliana’s lute?”

“No.”

“… M-my hair?” Many people often misjudged the color of Alistair’s amber locks.

Sten tensely shook his head. “No.”

Alistair groaned in exasperation and scuffed the dirt underneath him. “Then what is it?” he demanded impatiently.

Without warning, the Qunari dragged out his great longsword from behind him and swung the weapon in a large arc just as Alistair had dodged the incoming blow in good time. The bandit that had sneaked up behind the Templar’s shoulder howled in agony before his tattered body stopped convulsing entirely.

“The blood on his armor.” Sten answered wryly.


End file.
